


stable earth beneath

by witching



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Post-Episode: s02e01 New Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: After having their minds invaded by Cassandra, taking down a nurse-cat-nun conspiracy, and saving a hospital full of people from certain death, Rose and the Doctor are just about wiped out. But they still have some things to talk about and some issues to work out. Lots of talking ensues, with lots of feelings.





	stable earth beneath

**Author's Note:**

> title from the mountain goats' "never quite free."  
> prompt was tenrose + "things you said when you were scared." this is actually something i've been writing on and off since july, but with light editing i repurposed it for this request.

“You okay?”

The Doctor broke free from his reverie, pulling the world back into focus. Well, the interior of the TARDIS, and the outline of Rose sitting against the wall. The TARDIS and Rose. His world, at least. He cleared his throat quietly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m always okay.”

Rose gave an imperceptible shake of her head and shifted her position to fully face him. Looking up at him, her eyes glistening, she gestured to the space next to her. An invitation. He put on a small, tired smile, and moved without hesitation to join her. As he settled on the floor beside her, leaving a space of a few inches between them, his hand twitched to grab hers. An instinct, a reflex, an urge that he now suppressed.

“Are you, though?” Rose’s voice was soft and warm. So different from Cassandra’s cold, shrill impression of her. For about the thousandth time that day, the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief that Rose was herself, that she was safe.

“Course I am,” he assured her, forcing a smile. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Rose returned his smile without much enthusiasm. “Been a long day, that’s all. Thought you might wanna talk.”

Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, he said, “What would I have to talk about?”

“Nothing in particular,” Rose said, too hastily. “Just… a lot happened today. Maybe we haven’t had time to properly digest it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The Doctor hummed in thought. “I’m sorry, if it was… hard for you. It’s not exactly fun, having your mind… violated like that.”

She blinked at him, a weak grimace on her face. “We weren’t talking about me. But thank you, I suppose.”

He turned away from her, choosing to stare at his fingers laced together over his knees. For several long seconds, he sat in thought, frowning at his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, opened his mouth, changed his mind, seven times in a row, before he gave in and spoke.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he said slowly, “what you want me to do.”

Rose smiled again. “Oh, I’m very sure you don’t,” she replied.

A sharp inhale, long exhale, then: “Will you tell me?”

“I want to hear what you think,” she said. “If you were me, what would you want right now?” She waited, eyebrows raised.

“I would…” He looked back and forth between his hands and Rose's face several times. “I would want an apology,” he said finally.

Rose paused for a moment before asking, “What for?”

The Doctor scanned her expression, trying to gather some idea of what she was getting at, but she gave him nothing. “I put you in danger.” He took a deep breath. “Again,” he added. “I put you in the position for her to… invade your body.” He spat the last words, then lowered his head and his voice. “I should’ve protected you.”

“You saved me,” she soothed, reaching for his hand, holding it firmly in both of hers. “Again. What happened today was not your fault.”

“It was,” he said darkly.

She shook her head, smiling softly. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. Right now, we’re trying to figure out what I want.”

He stared at her, mouth hanging open, shocked by her change of tone. “I am very confused,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Rose teased, letting go of his hand. She turned, shifting her body to face him directly. “You have to keep guessing, though. Use that brain of yours. What would you want, after the day I’ve had?

The Doctor shook his head vigorously, blew out a heavy sigh. “Er, I suppose I might want to go home,” he said, his face falling.

“No cigar,” she laughed. “You get one more guess.”

He looked at her indignantly. “What, I only get three? You didn’t say that before.”

“Well, it’s no fun if I make you keep guessing forever. I’ve gotta show some mercy eventually.”

Warming up, unable to resist Rose's light mood, he smiled. “Alright then, better make this one count. What does Rose want? Sounds like a brilliant game show. Hm.”

“Come on, you solve mysteries all the time, you can’t figure out women?” Rose cocked her head to the side, her tongue at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s not women, I love women,” he mumbled. “It’s just you.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I’m a woman.”

The Doctor's face turned pink immediately. “No – that’s – I mean, it’s not – I just – we don’t – or, I mean, I haven’t – but it’s just –”

“Forget it, you still have to make your last guess,” Rose said, stifling a giggle at his floundering, making a mental note to bring it up again later.

He shot her a brief glare, taking a deep breath to get back on track. “It’s hard to step into your shoes, you know. I don’t know why you do half the things you do.”

“Oh, you’re getting dangerously close to a breakthrough. Keep talking.”

He frowned deeper, looking at his shoes to think. “That doesn’t help much. So… I don’t understand you, because you, you, you do things that I wouldn’t do, and I can’t comprehend why you’re not angry with me, and I, I don’t know what you need from me, and, and, and I. I…” Turning to see her face again, he trailed off.

Rose nodded her head at him. “You what, Doctor?”

“I… I just want to know what you’re thinking,” he said, defeated.

“But,” she prodded, “what do you want, if you’re me?”

He looked into her eyes, searching. “I want… I guess I want to know what I'm thinking,” he murmured.

Rose now grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them. “See? I knew you’d get there eventually.”

“That’s a lot of work to make me do, to reach that answer,” he said, but he was smiling.

She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t talk to me,” she whined. “You’re so worried about me that you forget that you’re allowed to have feelings.”

“I have feelings. I have plenty of feelings,” he said quickly.

“You’re allowed to have feelings on your own behalf,” she amended.

He took a beat. “I don’t want to do that,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” She pulled her hands away from his, back into herself, folding them in her lap.

The Doctor nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. A thick, heavy silence rested on his shoulders as he sat thinking, deciding, remembering. Rose was silent and still and refusing to look at him. He studied her closely: pushing her fingertips into her hands until her skin was white, breathing steadily, deliberately, an intense frown on her face. Most of the makeup she had been wearing had worn away during the day. Not quite practical for their lifestyle. _Our lifestyle_ , he thought to himself, _our life together_. He smiled softly, examining her features, the slump of her shoulders, the fullness of her cheeks, the pink of her lips. Her lips. Her lips.

“You could always ask.” His gentle voice pierced the cool air that hung between them.

She turned her eyes on him, not lifting her head. “Ask?”

“Ask what I’m thinking,” he said.

“Oh.” Rose chewed on her lower lip, fidgeted with her fingers. “Okay, then. I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll ask sometime.”

He blinked. “But not now?”

“No, not now. You’ve had too much time to rehearse an answer. Hand me my bag,” she said lightly, casually, gesturing to where her small black purse hung on a railing beside the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Oh. Alright.” He reached to hand her the bag, his brow furrowed.

She gave a smile and a nod in thanks. Digging in a pocket of her purse, she pulled out a small, pink tube, popped the cap off, and began applying the product to her lips.

The Doctor swallowed hard, licked his lips, momentarily forgot to breathe. His back stiffened, eyes wide, he watched Rose perform this ordinary task as if in slow motion. She didn’t look at him again until she had returned the balm or gloss or tint – whatever it was, it was pink and soft, like her – to her purse.

“Okay,” she said carefully, “now I’m asking.”

The Doctor's voice came ragged, low, rough: “What?”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “I’m asking. What you’re thinking. Why do you look like that?”

“Oh, I…” He cleared his throat quietly. “I was just thinking about cherries.”

“Okay. Why?”

He swallowed again. “Because… well, because that’s what you taste like. The scent is mostly vanilla, but the taste is all cherries. I was just contemplating, considering, you know, why that was.”

Rose's mouth hung open, her eyes fixed on his. “Well, I. My body lotion is vanilla scented. So that’s probably… and the, er, my lip balm is cherry,” she said, face turning red.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, don’t apologize. I asked. You should try honesty more often,” she teased him gently.

He looked seriously, darkly into her eyes. “I don’t lie. Not to you.”

“Sure,” she said under her breath, then, louder, “you keep a lot of things from me, though. That’s the same thing.”

“There’s some things you don’t want to know,” he murmured.

Rose struggled not to snap at him. “Don’t you think that’s for me to decide? I’m an adult, Doctor, you don’t need to protect me.”

“You’re my – you’re human. And you’re young, so young.” He looked down, her eyes starting to burn him.

“It sounds an awful lot like you think I’m too weak to handle things,” she said.

“No. No, it’s not that, never that. You… Rose, you are entirely too strong for me.”

She cocked her head. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “that I worry about you, because I know who you are.” He looked up again, into her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him without hesitation.

He smiled sadly. “No, maybe not. But…”

“But what?”

“But if you had to,” he said, “if you had to leave… you’d survive. I’m not sure I could say the same.”

Rose furrowed her brow, pouted her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I am never leaving you. I don’t want to survive without you. I don’t want to even think about that.”

“Okay,” he almost whispered, “okay, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You never used to apologize like that,” she said. Change the subject. Lift the mood. Keep him talking.

He took a deep breath. “Well. I do now,” he said. “New new Doctor.”

Rose grabbed his hand again, turning it over, running her fingers lightly along his palm, his knuckles, his wrist. “Yeah,” she said softly. “These are new hands.”

“New hands,” he echoed, flexing his fingers under her touch. “Lots of things I haven’t done with these hands.” He reached up with his free hand, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, cupping her face, rubbing his thumb gently over her cheek.

Rose leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, humming softly. “Good hands,” she murmured.

The Doctor looked away suddenly, paused for a long time. “It’s a shame, though,” he said finally.

“What’s a shame?”

“Shame that Cassandra stole my new first kiss,” he said, pulling his hand from her fingers, dropping the other from her face, to rest both on her knees. His voice was quiet, a hint of venom creeping in, despite his efforts to keep it light. “Our first kiss,” he added, gently.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh. Sorry,” she said lamely. Then, regaining some composure, “Sorry for you, I mean, and your new lips. As for… us, I don’t think it counted.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it wasn’t me, was it? Not my technique at all.” She smiled. “Might as well have been a different body,” she said.

“Different body,” he breathed. “Don’t want that.”

“Right, that’s coming from you,” Rose said, laughing.

“Well, I like this one.” He began to slowly move his hands as he spoke, fingers loosely molded around the curve of her thighs, until he was holding her hips gently. “Really like… this body,” he murmured, “with you in it.”

Leaning forward to be closer to him, a gentle, playful smile on her face, she said, “In that case, I promise to never, I don’t know, change into a different person with very little warning or explanation.”

“That’s reassuring, thanks,” said the Doctor with a breathless laugh.

“Speaking of which…” Rose flashed a small, sly smile.

He licked his lips, only inches from her face. “Hmm?”

Rose looked him up and down. “New new Doctor. Lots of new things to test out.”

“You think?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “The new hands seem to be in working order. That was step one.” She took a shallow breath, feeling the heat of his palms through her shirt.

He nodded, a glint in his eye. “What’s next on the list, inspector?”

“Oh, I’m sure that the mouth should be a priority.” They were close enough now that she felt his breathing speed up.

“Good, that’s good,” he said, more air than words.

Rose bridged the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, carefully, slowly, marking the sensation of every second of contact. He was warm, and he tightened his grip on her waist to pull her just a tiny bit closer. Rose’s hands found their way toward the Doctor’s face, fingers tracing along his collarbone, his ear, his jaw, mapping out the harsh angles he had hidden beneath a gentle suit of armor.

The Doctor’s skin buzzed under her light touch. His own hands migrated to match hers, following the line of her sides upwards, gently gliding along her throat before cupping her face in both his palms. He pulled back, putting the width of a hair between their lips, keeping his eyes closed.

Rose let out a soft hum of disapproval. “What’s wrong?” She barely spoke the words, held her position as a statue, desperate not to lose her place.

He smiled, though she was too close to see it. “Nothing,” he breathed, his lips grazing hers.

He inhaled deeply before pulling her into himself again, and they collided, drawn to each other with magnetic force. Rose stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand sliding down from his face to lie on his chest. She felt his heartbeat speeding, a machine in overdrive, the thump-thump-thump-thump of two hearts unfamiliar, but so comfortable. The Doctor moved his hands back to her sides, breathing hard and heavy, and bit lightly at her bottom lip.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, a soft gasp and a pleased moan in one.

He chuckled quietly and kissed her again before pulling away. “New teeth,” he whispered, moving to her jaw, alternating between quickly kissing and softly nipping at her skin.

“Good. Good teeth,” she said breathlessly as the Doctor trailed lips and teeth down her jawline, her throat, until he reached her collarbone. He planted another tender kiss, another playful nip, before sucking a mark into her pale skin. He stayed nested under her chin, dragging his tongue over the spot.

Rose shuddered at the sensation and remarked, “New tongue.”

“Yes,” the Doctor muttered into her skin. “New tongue.” He lifted his head to see Rose’s face again, to gauge her expression. Eyes half-closed, tongue pressed against her upper teeth, chin tilted up to expose her throat, skin flushed soft pink. He stared, entranced, before diving back into her kiss.

Rose wrapped both her arms around his neck, leaning even further into him, as if to absorb him through a kiss. As if to envelop him completely, bring him closer, closer, closer until there was no separating them. She rose to her knees from her seated position, bending over to maintain constant contact between them, desperate not to interrupt the flurry of lips and tongues and teeth and breath and skin and heat. She leaned down to reach him for only a moment, though, before he followed her lead, shifting to his knees as well.

Their bodies pressed against each other as tightly as possible, his hands on her waist, her fingers in his hair. Heavy breaths, open mouths, burning skin.

The Doctor broke off their kiss once more, pulling away by an inch, catching his breath as he studied the depths of Rose’s eyes. His hands wandered up from her waist, gliding over fabric, coming to a stop at the point just below her throat, where the zipper of her jacket was situated. His fingers hesitated, hovering, careful not to make a wrong move.

“Can I?” He swallowed lightly, looked off to the side, unable to maintain eye contact, but too respectful to stare at where his hands rested.

Rose gripped his shoulders gently, bit her lower lip. “You mean—?”

“No,” the Doctor cut her off, realizing his mistake, looking to her face again to see just how uncomfortable he had made her. “No, I—I just want to touch you.”

“Okay,” she said with a small nod.

With trembling fingers, he slowly, methodically lowered the zipper, exposing several inches of bare skin where her shirt was unbuttoned. He slipped between the two layers of fabric at her shoulders and removed the jacket, discarding it on the floor, never looking away from her eyes.

Pulling back another small distance, he let his eyes and hands roam, drinking in every part of her. He smoothed his hands down the length of her arms, dragged his fingers across the area below her collarbone, pressed his palm against the small of her back, grazed the space between her waistband and the hem of her shirt. He studied her, relishing the feel of skin on skin, soft and warm and sweet and her, keeping to the safe places. Sharing her heat, breathing her air, touching her body.

“Oh,” he breathed, “oh –.” He stopped, lips parted, awed into silence.

“Can I ask again?” Rose’s whisper pulled him back to reality.

He furrowed his brow. “Ask what?”

She responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What you’re thinking.”

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Yeah, always.”

“What are you thinking right now?” She spoke almost inaudibly, barely enough breath to carry the sound.

The Doctor’s voice was low and ragged when he replied, “I’m thinking about you.”

She swallowed nervously. “What about me?”

“Oh, warmth and brilliance and courage and kindness. Running. Dancing. The way that sunlight shines on your hair. Everything about you. Because everything’s about you. You are… everything.”

Rose looked down, then back up at his face, her mouth poised to respond with words her brain hadn’t supplied. The Doctor took advantage of her silence, pulled her close again and kissed her, slow and deep and hungry. She reciprocated immediately, burying her hands in his hair, matching the motion of his mouth. A soft hum of contentment turned into a whine as he swiped his tongue along her lower lip, only to pull back again, just enough so that he could speak, though their lips still touched ever so lightly.

“I love cherries,” he murmured. He pressed his lips to hers again, quickly, then directed his attention to her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She stroked the back of his head, tugging lightly at his hair, as he planted soft kisses on every inch of exposed skin. Feeling the beat of her heart, breathing her in, he paused for a moment. “I love vanilla, too,” he said, lips moving against her skin, and returned to his mission, kissing and tasting and –

“I love you.” The words came out in a moan, so quick she couldn’t stop them.

The Doctor turned to stone with his tongue on her throat, stayed frozen there for a second, before pulling away from her. Slowly, slowly, he extricated himself from her entirely, sat back on his heels, hands and lips and tongue leaving nothing in their wake but cold, bare skin. Rose buried her face in her hands and fell gracelessly back into a seated position. The air was cold and silent for what felt like several long minutes before she lowered her hands to see him, mouth open, face still flushed, eyes locked on her. They sat staring at each other, thinking, waiting, until they broke the silence at the same time.

“You can forget that,” Rose said.  
“I can forget that,” the Doctor said.

“Do you want to?” She chewed her lip.  
“Do you want me to?” He cocked his head.

“You go first,” she mumbled, waving a hand at him.

His gaze was fixed downward now, watching his hands as he stumbled through his words. “I just mean, it’s okay if, you know… if you didn’t mean that.”

“What?” Rose’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Why would you think that?”

He heaved a sigh. “It’s not, I mean, it’s easy to get caught up in the moment, and I just thought – I don’t know, I just… I can pretend it didn’t happen, if you want.”

Rose shook her head slowly, furrowing her brow. “That’s not what I want, really, but, I mean… it depends,” she said.

Raising his head again, the Doctor hesitated before speaking. “Depends on what?”

“Well, it depends on – it depends on how you feel,” she said quickly. Her sparkling brown eyes searched his face, looking for any hint of an expression to break through his blank mask, the one he always wore when he was sulking, attempting to numb himself, protect himself from any more hurt. As their gazes locked and she continued watching him quietly, softly, encouraging a response, his features seemed to fall.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered.

She frowned. “What don’t I understand?”

“You don’t understand, you can’t understand, how I feel,” he said.

“No,” she said with a nod, “maybe not. But I’d like to try.”

The Doctor took a shuddering breath, his eyes glistening. He sat frozen, mouth just slightly open, silent and unmoving as all of the words he wanted to say threatened to drown under the weight of his tongue. Finally, he spoke, his voice folded in on itself as if he had forgotten how to use it. “I have never needed anyone the way that I need you. I am carrying a millennium, a universe, a terrifying amount of love, all for you, and I can’t ask you to take on that burden. You don’t deserve that.”

Rose frowned, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to let fall. “You think I don’t understand that? You think I don’t feel that?”

“You’re young,” he said.

“And that means I don’t know my own emotions?” She spoke quietly, not arguing, not fighting, but feeling, simply and strongly.

He blew out a short breath. “No, just… you’ve got a different metric, I think, for love. And I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

Rose shook her head, looking up at the ceiling. “What, you think I’m gonna… change my mind?”

The answer came in a ragged whisper. “You’ve got so much life ahead of you. There are so many ways for me to ruin it.”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. “That’s not true.”

“I can’t give you what you need,” he said.

She reached for his hands, holding them tightly even as he tried weakly to pull them back. Tilting her head to make eye contact, she spoke tenderly, genuinely. “All I need from you is you.”

“Rose,” he pleaded, broken.

“How can I get this through your head?” She exhaled in a huff. “I love you. I said it, and I meant it. And if you love me too, I’m not gonna let you run away from that because you’re scared.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow, frowning. “But you…” He swallowed, turned away, looked back at her. “You told me to forget it.”

A small laugh, barely more than a breath. “Yeah.”

He hesitated, mouth open, before speaking. “Why?”

“Well, I… I mean, I did mean it, but I didn’t mean to say it, and your reaction, well, you – it wasn’t exactly encouraging, and I…” She trailed off, looking down at their intertwined hands.

“You…?” He squeezed her hands encouragingly.

Rose flashed a sad smile. “I didn’t want to hear you reject me, alright? I didn’t want to have to hear you say it. I’d rather pretend it never happened than hear you list all the reasons it isn’t – it couldn’t be me.”

“It is you, though. Of course it’s you. What… what did you think we were doing here?” He pulled his hands from hers, gestured broadly between the two of them.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought it was – pity, maybe? Or adrenaline? Or – or you just – I don’t know. Fun?” She looked up at him again, pressed her lips together.

His eyes shimmered as he digested her meaning. “Fun? You –” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat “—you think I would do that to you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just didn’t think that there were – that you felt like that.” There was a long pause, and then, “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yes, yeah.”

“What were you thinking? When I… when Cassandra… before you realized it wasn’t me?” She fidgeted with her hair as she spoke, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. “I mean, she was a bit bold. She took a few liberties. With my chest, and my voice, and – and my mouth. So what did you think was happening?”

He blinked. “I thought you were trying something new. I didn’t, well, I didn’t really think it had anything to do with me.”

“Even when I – when she kissed you?”

Rose’s question seemed to echo in the second of silence before the Doctor spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, even then. I thought maybe you just needed to let off some steam. Maybe it was a lot of change all at once. Maybe you were trying to come out of your shell a little bit, get the… the full experience, I guess.”

“Okay, then,” Rose persisted, “how did you feel about it?”

He inhaled sharply, looked off to the side. “I loved it. It was all I ever wanted. I think about kissing you every single day, and then you finally… it was a dream come true. But I knew it was too much to hope for, it couldn’t be that simple, and it didn’t, I mean, it couldn’t really change anything.”

She sat in thought for a moment, silent for long enough that the Doctor turned to look at her again, anticipating an answer. When she spoke, it was quiet, contemplative. “Why not? Why can’t it be that simple, just this once?”

“Because,” he replied, “you deserve a life. A better life than I could give you.”

Rose scoffed at him. “There’s nothing out there better than this.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “It’s amazing, seeing the universe like this, it’s thrilling, it’s inspiring, but it’s not a life.”

“I don’t care about the universe,” she said quickly, “I don’t care about any of that. There is nothing better than being with you. I don’t know how I lived before you found me.” She inhaled deeply, reaching once more for his hand. “I was a bird trying to survive in the ocean, and you gave me the sky. You showed me the whole universe full of opportunities, and it is amazing and thrilling and inspiring, but I chose you, and I’ll always choose you. I don’t know about all of time and space, but I know myself, and I am sure, so sure, that this is it for me.”

The Doctor looked at her, just looked, trying to read words written behind her eyes, waiting for answers to questions he wouldn’t ask. Rose stared back, awaiting a reply, but he simply deepened his search. They passed several seconds, attempting to interpret the lines in each other’s skin, before Rose broke the spell.

“Say something,” she implored.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he spoke. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You just need to start trusting me.”

“I trust you with my life,” he said quickly.

She smiled softly. “But not with mine.”

“No,” he said, “that’s too important.”

“Guess we just have to watch out for each other,” Rose murmured, then placed a small kiss on his palm. “My life in your hands.”

The Doctor nodded, smiled, took the same palm and rested it over her heart, echoing, “My life in your hands.”


End file.
